


You're Going To Break My Heart And I'm Going To Let You

by bothromeoandjuliet



Series: Spring Fling Jeronica Week [6]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, I hate you but I love you too, I listened to a lot of lorde, I sorta hate myself for writing this, Jughead and Veronica are in highschool, another sometimes and other times, are really good for one, feel free to attack me in the comments, if you don't like angst you might not enjoy this, jughead and veronica, not so much, seriously, so its only kissy times, this is like a word vomit of angst, this is okay for all readers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothromeoandjuliet/pseuds/bothromeoandjuliet
Summary: It was only supposed to be a fling. Just a few lonely nights spent in Jughead's room and one or two kisses behind closed doors. Just some mental support with an expiration date. Only...now that its ending; why does it feel like they were falling in love?





	You're Going To Break My Heart And I'm Going To Let You

**Author's Note:**

> Day number six, and I apparently have decided to kill myself with angst and then share it with all of you! Feel free to freak out on me in the comments lol, I know that I would. The prompt is Spring Fling.

 

The first time it happens he and Veronica are standing in Archie’s driveway, waving goodbye to Betty and Archie and their parents; all of whom are headed to San Fransisco to visit Polly and the twins over spring break.

It's dark out, hovering in-between that time of night that is either very late, or very early. Jughead’s shoulders are curved inwards and Veronica’s shivering, wrapped in a jacket that's no match for the nights biting breeze, and a pair of ridiculously tall heels.

Jughead hates them, what seventeen year old wears high-heels that religiously? He says as much, his voice cutting and gaze sharp.

“I wear them so I can do this whenever I want.”

He doesn’t get the chance to ask what ‘this’ is because the next moment her lips are on his and her nails are digging into his sherpa lined collar and the last thing Jughead is thinking about is thinking.

And then she’s walking away, heels clacking on the pavement and he’s left staring after her, eyes half-lidded and lips stained with her lipstick.

After that he avoids the diner for a few days, spending his days writing about raven hair and his nights jolting awake with the feeling of her in his mouth.

The second time it happens he runs into her at the library, literally runs into her, because for once she’s not wearing heels and Jughead simply doesn’t see her.

They exchange last names like curses and separate, each standing on the opposite side of the bookcase. Nobody else is in that corner of the library to drag Jughead’s attention away from her, and the way that she keeps trying to look at him without looking at him.

So swiping tongue over dry lips, and hearing his heart beat too fast in his ears, Jughead walks up to her.

Hands on her waist, arms around his neck, two hungry souls fighting for power over each other. They break apart and this time Jughead is the one to walk away, flinging over his shoulder,

“I like the shoes Princess.”

He goes back to the diner after that happens, watches her work with eyes that are practically begging for her attention. Veronica gives it to him, not as much as he wants, no; needs, but still more then she should.

Jughead grows to be very familiar with the texture of her hair, the coarseness of her Pops uniform under his fingers. Veronica teaches him how to read her soul, and Jughead’s never been so desperate to learn something in his entire life.

They still argue, but now instead of him throwing her parents wrongs in her face when he wants her to shut up, he grabs her by the wrist, pulling her to the first hidden corner that they can find.

Because thats the only place where they ever truly exist; in hidden corners, behind locked doors. Where Veronica can just tell him that she wants him to kiss her, instead of spitting words like venom into Jughead’s veins until he gets the hint, and Jughead can lay with his head in her lap while she’s reading and actually sleep.

Nobody notices that anything has changed which means, that either they’re both fantastic liars, or that they don’t really serve much of a purpose when they aren’t acting as the dark to Archie and Betty’s light. A sick truth, sick and sad but not really that surprising to either of them. Isn’t that why they had chosen them after all?

Late one night Jughead gets a phone call from Betty, whose all tears and frustration and ‘why can’t my mom and Polly just get along.’ He calms her, just like he always calms her, with gentle tones and promises that everything will be alright. (It's a lie, he’s not sure that everything is going to be alright, if fact he’s pretty certain that it won’t be.) She stops crying though, which means that he’d said the right thing, and sighs sweetly in his ear,

“You’re such a good friend Jug.”

Her words brand him, because he’s not, he’s not. He’s anger and hate and freaking desperation, so after Betty hangs up he goes to the Pembrooke, blood pumping, soul screaming. Veronica’s window is open and he climbs in, fingertips sliced on rose thorns.

She doesn’t ask him why he’s there, she doesn’t need to and Jughead hates her for it. But he curls up behind her anyway, watching blood drip and stain the white silk sheets.

He wakes up to screams that morning, not from her though, it's from her mother and that monster that Veronica is forced to call a father. Screams of hatred and disillusionment, loud enough to murder souls.

Brown eyes stay fixed on the ceiling, black hair fanned out on her silken pillow, and looking back Jughead thinks that maybe that was the first time he saw Veronica’s soul, fractured as it was.

Glass shatters and he kisses her, and tells her that she’s beautiful for first time before he leaves. Knuckles turn white where she’s gripping the comforter and she doesn’t look at him, just hisses at him as he climbs outside,

“Don’t come back here, Jones.”

He doesn’t, too close a friend with shame to ignore her words. So instead Veronica comes to the trailer, because if Jughead is desperate then she’s downright wretched. Her shampoo stinks up the shower, toothbrush fits in in-between his and his dad’s, and Jughead clears out all the crap his dad has taken to storing in his closet, because her clothes are dry-clean only and Jughead knows that she hates it when they wrinkle.

His dad doesn’t notice, or maybe he does and just tries to ignore it, just like how Jughead tries to ignore how his heart beats a little faster when he sees his flannel hanging off Veronica’s shoulders, mismatched with her houndstooth skirt, when she’s dancing barefoot in his kitchen, sunlight flashing against her hair.

School starts again and Archie and Betty come back home, sun kissed and glowing; like they needed anymore proof that they were the sunshine to Veronica and Jughead’s shadows. They tell their stories and laugh and blush and absolutely no one is surprised when a few weeks later they announce that they’ve started dating. And that night both Jughead and Veronica cry, hearts bleeding ‘what if.’ Veronica uses his chest as a pillow, claiming that none of his pillows are stiff enough, but he knows that its because listening to his heartbeat helps her sleep and Jughead confesses to himself that Veronica’s silk pajamas are more comfortable to hold then Betty’s cotton ones would’ve been.

Weeks pass by, there’s only a few months until its graduation and sticky, hot summer days. Somedays he wonders what Veronica would say if he asked her what they were, if she would kiss or slap his soul with her answer, so he doesn’t ask, just nuzzles his nose deep into her hair while they’re half asleep on his couch and smirks when his dad asks him if Veronica prefers Crest or Colgate toothpaste when he’s making his shopping list. (He says Crest and wonders to himself how he even knows that particular fact.)

Sometimes, after Veronica’s parents finally call it quits and her dad goes back to New York, he sees her watching him when she thinks that he’s not paying attention--he always is--eyes tear-filled and broken.

“Have you ever told someone that you love them, Jughead?” she asks one afternoon, her breath the same scent as the strawberries that he’s slicing on the cutting board, that she insists on stealing because they quote, ‘taste better that way.’

He knows what she wants him to say, that yea, he has and it's beautiful, and isn’t it depressing that she never has, but he won’t lie just to satisfy her sick need to feel bad about herself.

“No. Hell, Veronica, we’re eighteen, what do we know about love?”

“Nothing.” she mutters, leaning down from where she’s sitting on the counter so she can lay her forehead on his pulse point. “Nothing at all.”

“You’re beautiful Princess.” he whispers, thinking that maybe; just maybe, someday he’ll know a thing or two about love.

He should have known that he was wrong.

* * *

 

It's the night before graduation, and the room is dark and the air is sleepy and Jughead can’t sleep. Because the air might be sleepy but it smells like her and it's not nearly dark enough to hide the fact that the shadows of Veronica’s things aren’t there anymore. The room is empty, or maybe that's just him, maybe he’s the one who's empty. His hand reaches out, dancing across the side of the bed that she should be filling, and her voice from the night before echos in his ears.

_“I’m going to NYU in the fall.”_

_Quiet words, muttered against his ribcage. Jughead’s lungs stall, fingers spasming against her hair._

_“Oh.”_

_A pause, lasting a second that might as well be a lifetime._

_“I didn’t know that you’d applied.”_

_‘Why didn’t you tell me,’ screams his soul._

_“I applied last summer. I wasn’t sure that I would be accepted.”_

_She adds on that last part for him he knows, because any school would be more then pleased to accept Veronica Lodge, New York’s prodigal daughter, but the same can’t be said for him. With the grades that he’s gotten over his high-school career he’s lucky that he was even able to get into Riverdale’s Community Collage._

_“When did you find out?”_

_“A few days ago.”_

_She’s hesitating, Jughead can feel her body tense inside his arms._

_“They asked me to come join the summer program.”_

_“When does it start?”_

_(When are you leaving me.)_

_“On Monday.”_

_“Are you-“_

_“I’m going Jughead.”_

_Blood rushes to his head and Jughead knows that if he wasn’t already laying down his knees would have buckled at her words._

_“Okay.”_

_(Please don’t leave me.)_

They hadn’t said anything more and by the time the pale sunbeams burn across Jughead’s face in the morning she’s already gone. His closet door swings open with ease when he brushes against it, no shoes trip him up when he walks to his bedroom door and he grabs his tooth brush without having to worry if he’s going to hit hers. He showers, and the leftover smell of her shampoo fills his nose and suddenly his soul breaks.

The tears come fast and thick, choking him. He collapses on the shower’s floor, fingers tearing into his hair, sobbing. Her smell, it's in his nose, it's in his soul; and all of a sudden it's too much for him to bear, and the breakfast that he hasn’t even eaten yet burns like acid in his throat as he wretches into the drain.

Fists pound at the door and Jughead’s well enough that he can shout to his dad that he’s fine before turning off the shower and drying off, the towel rough and tearing at his skin.

His dad’s doesn’t say anything when Jughead comes into the living room, beanie shoved down over his wet curls and jean jacket tight across his shoulders. Jughead can’t look him in the face, won’t let him see the broken blood vessels in his eyes that Jughead is sure are there, or the slight reddening at the tip of his nose.

“Do you think that Mom and Jellybean are going to be able to make it today?” he asks.

To be honest, Jughead’s not even sure if he wants them there, or his mom at least, but he wants to feel like he's normal, and normal Jughead would want to know.

“I’m not sure Jug. I called your mom and she said she would but…”

Said is the operative word in that sentence. Because over the years his mom has said a lot of things, but Jughead can’t remember the last time that anything she said had actually happened.

His dad’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and his voice is is thick with emotion.

“And even if she’s not there, I am, and boy you can count on the fact that I’m going to be the proudest father there when they call your name, and I watch you walk across that stage.”

Jughead still can’t meet his eye, but he gives the hand a brief squeeze before he leaves, glad to know that there is still one person in his corner at least.

Graduation goes fairly smoothly, only a few of the speeches overstay their welcome, and Betty and Archie insist that they all sit next to one another, leaving school the same way they had entered it, together. So he sits next to Archie, with some girl that he didn’t recognize but probably should on his other side, basking in the fact that his friends are so blissfully unconcerned with everything but their own joy and excitement.

They're called up to the stage and he spies his dad, next to Fred and Mary Andrews, in the crowd, all three beaming towards him. Looking away he makes eye contact with Mrs. Lodge who’s dressed to the nines and crying. Her eyes remind him of Veronica’s when she’s crying; reminds him to much, so he looks away in a hurry, stomach lurching with nausea once again.

They call his name, he’s given his diploma and a handshake, and then its all over and he’s graduated. He can hear his dad whooping in the crowd, just as loudly as he had promised too, although he’s definitely being challenged by Mr. Andrews’ bellowing roar.

Actually, there’s a lot more people clapping and cheering for him then Jughead had thought there would be, and suddenly he wonders if maybe he matters a bit more then he had initially thought.

At some point after the ceremony he’s separated from Archie and Betty, even though Jughead sees a couple that looks suspiciously like them, making out under the bleachers. Reggie insists that they get a picture together, swinging his arm around Jughead's shoulders and talking much too loudly.

He’s signing Ethel’s yearbook when he hears her, laugh entangled with Josie’s and Toni’s. It's crystal clear and ringing and anyone who wasn’t Jughead wouldn’t doubt that it was real. But he does, because Jughead’s had months to learn Veronica and he knows that laugh; the one that she uses when she’s about to break and doesn’t want anyone to know.

Eyes tear through the crowd, disregarding anyone that isn’t her and then he sees her. She’s speed walking away from her friends, head flung back, hair flowing.

Ethel’s saying something that Jughead can’t really hear; because his soul is screaming, stretching out its arms, wailing _‘home.’_

Jughead mutters goodbye to Ethel, and follows Veronica, dodging classmates impatiently. She’s turned a corner, gone out of sight, and he starts running, not caring about how people stare after him.

He turns the corner, and there she is, her back to him, head thrown up to the sky.

“Princess.”

Brown eyes meet his, mascara trickles down her face and any biting words that Jughead might have said die on his tongue.

“I can’t do it Jughead. I thought that I could be strong enough to stop this but-“

A sob cuts Veronica off and the next moment Jugheads got her in his arms. Small and vulnerable, she clings to him, dark splotches from her tears on his graduation gown. She’s broken and inconsolable and Jughead has never seen her so beautiful.

“I…I’m leaving Jughead, and you're staying and I can’t…I can’t just ask you to define whatever this is and then leave. You just deserve so much more then me; I’m not good for you, and I’ll never be enough for you and…I just love you too much to let myself hurt you.”

Jughead tightens his grip, whispering incoherent nothings in her ear. Veronica wrenches herself away from him, sinking down to her knees on the pebbled concrete.

He follows her, fingers prying her hands from her face.

“Veronica, listen, please listen to me! You…you are more then enough for me, you always have been and you always will be. No, stop.” as Veronica shakes her head, striving to pull her hands away.

“You going to college won’t change anything but how much we see one another. You’re not going to hurt me, I promise! I love you Veronica, and nothing you can say will change that.”

Veronica shakes her head again, but her tears are slower then before at least. Jughead wipes them away with his thumbs, cupping her face in his hands.

“Jughead…We’re a freaking catastrophe. We’re two screwed up souls trying to heal one another and we can’t; we just can’t.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Because if we do we’ll just end up hating each other; you’ll look at me and see someone who didn’t stay with you and I’ll look at you and see that I’m hurting you and feel guilty and we’ll just loathe one another.”

“No, we won’t; I could never hate you Princess.”

“Oh Jughead,” she sighs, smiling slightly with wet eyes, thumbnail tracing the line of his bottom lip. “don’t you already?”

A car pulls into the parking lot, her mother’s driver is at the wheel and Jughead knows; he knows what she’s about to do.

“Veronica, please don’t do this!”

“I’m sorry Jughead, I’m so, so sorry.”

Hands pull away, leaving him grasping at air and she stands, legs shaky.

“I...I love you Jughead. I don’t think that I’ll ever stop and I hope…oh; please forgive me.”

She backs away from him, eyes refilling, heart shattering. And he can’t do anything, can’t even call out her name. He tries, but the sound dies on his lips.

The car door shuts and she’s driven away, out of sight, perhaps forever. Jughead can’t look away, can’t breath, can’t speak.

He feels his father’s hands on him, sees the concerned faces of Betty and Archie floating before him.

He knows that he should reassure them, should tell them that he’s alright, but that would be a lie.

Jugheads not alright, and he’s not sure that he ever will be again.


End file.
